


Thrill of the Chase

by Zhie



Series: Bunniverse [31]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:46:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10470573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Celegorm hunts.





	

“Stop!”

Six of seven horses were jerked back by their riders. The seventh slowed his hooves on his own accord, much to the disappointment of his master. “Why are we stopping? We nearly had him cornered,” pointed out Celegorm as he brought his mount back to join the others in the hunting party.

“You know how dangerous it is to ride into that part of the forest. We would need to dismount,” said Maedhros.

Celegorm threaded his fingers together as he settled them on the pommel and leaned forward around the side of his horse’s neck. “Are we all too lazy this afternoon to follow the fox on foot?”

“Some of us did not come prepared to track on the ground,” Fingon said quietly. His sister did not seem to agree with him from the expression she wore, but from the clothes she was wearing it was obvious he was making reference to her. Fingolfin seemed to tolerate his daughter’s desire to cavort with her cousins (provided either Fingon or Turgon was along to chaperone), but he would be less than happy to have her return home with muddied slippers and a torn dress.

“None of us came prepared for that,” corrected Maedhros. He was flanked by Caranthir and Maglor, both impassive, as if waiting for the faceoff between their brothers that was guaranteed to come.

Finrod made a hasty attempt to stall the inevitable. “There was that deer herd Caranthir saw the trail for earlier.”

“We will never catch them now,” argued Celegorm.

“Those tracks were fresh,” said Caranthir. “We would have no difficulty finding them again.”

“Who wants to hunt deer?” Celegorm sat back up in his saddle and rose up as he stood in the stirrups. “Really. Deer hunting? How cliché. Are we all afraid of the little fox in the woods?”

“Grow up, Celegorm. We are not going to follow you in there.” Maedhros turned his horse and looked to Caranthir. “Can you lead us back to the tracks you found earlier?” Caranthir nodded and the group began to turn away from the dense part of the woods.

“Cowards!” shouted Celegorm, but only Caranthir flinched. Celegorm settled back down again with his arms crossed over his chest. The party moved away slowly, as if expecting he would need to catch up. “As if I need any of the rest of you,” he added. As he grabbed the reins and tried to get his mount to enter the forest where the fox had disappeared, his horse reared and snorted.

“Celegorm!” Maedhros broke from the rest of the group and rode back to his brother. “I am not going to stop you from foolishly going in there, but you are not subjecting this poor creature to your whims.”

“Who will stop me. You?”

Maedhros sidestepped his horse closer and lowered his voice. “If you really wish to continue to make an ass of yourself in front of Aredhel, please do. It amuses us all. But your horse is staying here.”

Celegorm clenched his jaw. His gaze flitted momentarily toward the others who had slowed to a stop. Some were watching them, some were purposely turned away. Among those watching were Aredhel and her brother, who whispered to her with his eyes on the scene.

“Celegorm?”

With a lazy tilt of his head, Celegorm acknowledged his brother, yet said nothing.

“I asked you a question, little brother.”

Celegorm discretely watched a breeze blow the hem of Aredhel’s dress, revealing delicate ankles and shapely calves. As she leaned down and fought to keep the fabric under control, he smirked to himself.

“Stop staring at your cousin’s breasts and answer my question.”

“What question?” Celegorm grinned. “Wait, you must have been looking, too.”

Maedhros rolled his eyes. “Certainly not. Now, are you coming with us, or are you leaving your horse with me?”

Celegorm cleared his throat. “My lady!” he shouted, and Aredhel raised her head and looked at him dead on. “Do you think I can still catch our furry friend in yonder woods?” he called out.

“None of us can catch him now,” Aredhel responded.

“None, but I.” Celegorm dismounted and held out the reins of his horse for Maedhros to take. “Are we still to gather at father’s house this eve?”

“Aye,” answered Maedhros warily.

“I shall see you then,” promised Celegorm as he removed his quiver. He passed this, his bow, and his sheathed sword up to Maedhros as well.

“Just how do you intend to hunt without any weapons?” prodded Maedhros as Celegorm stretched his arms behind his back.

“What weapons does our fox friend have? Teeth, claws.” Celegorm grinned and flexed the fingers of his right hand. “Fair is fair.”

“You are crazy,” muttered Maedhros as Celegorm sprinted into the forest.

‘Crazy,’ thought Celegorm as he ran through the forest, dodging trees and leaping fallen logs. ‘I am not crazy, I am fierce! I am fire, like father. I am a frenzied force.’

Celegorm paused and took in a deep breath of air in the shadows of the trees. His eyes flitted about in search of tracks while his ears twitched and listened for the sound of red-furred paws in the underbrush. It hit his nose first: the scent of his prey, and he crouched and gathered together the whole of his senses, waiting until he knew without doubt which way to go next.

He was off again, a sprint like a rabbit – smooth and silent, swift and precise. Again, he stopped, and hunched to the ground. Heart pounded, chest heaved, nostrils flared, but he made not one sound. Another sign was given, this one more telling – a tuft of red fur caught low on a trunk. The fox was moving fast. The hunter was closing in. Celegorm gave chase once more.

It was unexpected when Celegorm stopped again that he saw his prey before him. The fox had crawled beneath a raspberry bush, where it was now crouched low with tail against the ground. Celegorm breathed steadily, slow and silent, as he withdrew his hunting knife. It was the only weapon he had kept with him when he had given Maedhros the others. It was all he needed. With only this knife, he had once climbed a tree and dropped down upon a deer, felling it with one strike. The fox was smaller, and the large knife was, Celegorm admitted, overkill.

The small creature yelped once as Celegorm’s hand closed around its tail. With one quick slash of his wrist, it was done. The fox was frozen in place, eyed fixed upon Celegorm. The elf slackened his grip, and the fox darted away. 

“Now why, after all that, did you let him go?” An imposing figure astride a pure white horse seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Such was the way of the Valar.

Celegorm smiled. He stood and sheathed his knife before he opened his other hand to reveal the few hairs he had cut from the end of the fox’s tail moments earlier. “I caught him, and have the proof of it. But if I kill him today, he cannot be chased tomorrow.”

“Ah. So, it is not the end of the hunt which inspires you to partake, but the hunt itself.”

“It is the thrill of the chase,” admitted Celegorm. “As my brothers have oft pointed out, I chase many things I would not know what to do with if I caught them. What would one do with a fox?”

“Skin it,” suggested Orome.

“Dreadful end for such a beautiful creature,” Celegorm decided. “Nay, I would rather let him go and chase him tomorrow again.”

“And what if another hunter were to catch your fox to kill and skin it?”

“Then I should like to be the one to catch and kill and skin the hunter who dares.” Celegorm said this easily enough for it to sound idle, but his expression read otherwise. “I have less need of his fur than he does. There are times to hunt to kill, but to kill only to kill seems senseless to me.”

Orome dismounted with grace and patted his horse’s neck. “It is not often I see one hunting alone in my woods.”

“I hunt not for fun as my companions do. I hunt for it is my life; I consider myself not one who simply hunts, but a hunter, like yourself.”

“Do you indeed?” Orome smiled. “Your confidence is to be admired. Where is your horse?”

“As I said, I came alone.”

“Your hounds?”

“I have none,” admitted Celegorm unashamedly. “My father and eldest brother own a few, but I use them very rarely though permitted to as I wish. Their loyalty is not to me.”

“A loyal hound is a great advantage to any hunter.” Orome had been circling Celegorm. The hunter should have felt more like the prey now, but Celegorm stayed unbelievably calm under the scrutiny of the Vala. “Your values are noble, and such thoughts should be rewarded. You would benefit from such a companion as I might offer.”

Celegorm lifted one brow in interest. “It sounds like some trick,” Celegorm dared to say.

“I offer only that which I have within my power to give.” Orome whistled, and a large dog arguably the size of some small equine bounded up dutifully to his master. “I have grown tired of hunting as much as my hound desires. You, my young friend, can offer him the thrill of the chase he so loves. Hunt in my woods, rest in my house, and make yourself welcome here in my home. You are indeed a hunter, Celegorm son of Feanor, but I can teach you what you should know to become a great hunter.”

\---

“What are you going to do, live in his woods now?” questioned Caranthir. They were all gathered in the garden between the house and the forge, and with them now was Curufin, who had stayed home. Celegorm had returned much later than the rest, with a better story than the one the others had of futilely wandering in search for deer.

“No,” answered Celegorm, who was settled on the ground. He lounged beside Huan, whose furry body spread out across the grass and offered something for Celegorm to rest against. “I plan to keep coming and going as I please where I please, just as I always have.”

“Only now, with a big furry horse,” added Maedhros.

Celegorm glared. “Huan is a dog, not a horse.”

“How can you tell?” asked Finrod. “Under all that fur, he could be a cat for all you know.”

“He is a dog,” insisted Celegorm, and Huan barked in affirmation.

“Did you pick out such a silly name, or did Orome do that?” asked Caranthir.

“There is nothing silly about the name Huan. You are only jealous that I have a huge talking dog, and you do not.”

Maglor laughed. “If he is a talking dog, why does he keep barking?”

“Maybe because none of you are worth his time to speak to,” answered Celegorm.

“Sure. That must be it.” Most everyone laughed as Celegorm sulked and muttered to himself.

One of the others in the circle moved away from the laughter and joined his brother on the ground. “I believe your dog can talk,” said Curufin to Celegorm. “You need not prove it to me; I believe you.”

Celegorm nodded and smiled.


End file.
